Three romances
by Vuld Edone
Summary: Sorry, no CMC, just three shorts about a blind, blind feeling. And... maybe more than three...
1. Three romances

**I have written... one romance in my life? And I'm not too sure it can even count as one... Which means feelings aren't exactly my specialty. Well someone defied me to write a romance so I had to train, and those three romances are my training.  
**

* * *

The train whistled afar, farther than the wide curve of rails leading to the train station, farther than the last tunnel opening on that curve, it was still climbing the mountain. Yet they stood up, all passengers who were waiting on the station approached the white line expecting to see the puffs of the train's chimney mark the sky.

"What is taking them so long" Marvel champed at the bit, looking back at the street "they'll miss the train!"

"They?"

Both mares stopped worrying for a second to giggle together, happy to have been exposed. Marvel rubbed her ear, a little embarrassed as she knew how sensible their friend was. Maybe it was the hair slide holding her smooth mane, or maybe her hoofbag at her side with the bunny plush hanging on a key ring but Fluttershy looked even shier as time had passed. So Marvel, as usual, was counting on the youngest of them and Silver Spoon spontaneously answered:

"I asked my brother to come along!"

She said with a big smile even bigger as Fluttershy seemed to melt, suddenly blushing and a little panicked, she looked around and asked, her faint voice trembling of emotion: "You... you asked..." Now all the creamy pegasus wanted to do was to crawl and hide. Her tail, her toes were so casual, she panicked, if he didn't like her hoofbag...

The train whistled again upon the end of its wide curve, engulfed the train station with its smoke covering her friends' giggles. She wasn't prepared, she just wasn't prepared, if she had known... but Marvel put a hoof on her elbow and, with a confident look, forced the pegasus to calm. Then she put both legs on both elbows and as stern as Marvel could be:

"Now, now, 'Shy! It's time for you to admit your feelings!"

"My..." she whispered, "my feelings?"

"You know, with him being a stallion and you being a mare..."

"You love him right?" The impatient youth of Silver Spoon cut through.

She couldn't say a word, fumbling on each of them as her heart wouldn't stop beating. Had she been given time, she would have said, probably, "I like him"... But time had passed, the train was restless as passenger came aboard, they were the only three left on the platform. She suddenly thought, did they tell him? Oh no, if they... she felt weak, barely able to stand on her feet when shouts of voices shattered her angst. The voice of the train chief, and that of the two stallions galloping towards them in a hurry. He was there, and her heart wavered.

"What took you so long" Spoon scolded as she was getting on board, on the stepladder the student heard her brother tell 'Shy a short hello, receive in return what weakest muttering could be heard over the third whistle of the train, then all joined her inside.

This wagon was all theirs, almost empty and quiet, their voices filled it as they sit, the creamy pegasus trying to curl up in the tiniest space between her friends. Silver Spoon's brother was just in front of her, looking by the window as the train departed, he was so close... but they had told him nothing, he was unaware of her feelings and mostly in his own thoughts, enjoying this ride to the aviary of Ponyville. She had put her hoofbag on the side, as another way to hide behind, and the bunny plush was bouncing with the rails.

It was just a friendly trip, she thought, and a sort of weight took shape somewhere in her, watching him not watch her. It was fine that way, as long as she wasn't exposed...

"Eh!" Silver Spoon exclaimed, which took all of them by surprise. She was usually quiet, and Fluttershy quickly understood why the filly was smiling again: "Anypony wants to play?"

The pegasus was about to yelp no when Marvel got what their friend had in mind: "I'm game! Are you?" She said to the stallion in front of them.

Please say no please say no please say- "I don't mind" he answered, as their last friend passed.

"One of us finds an object and the others must find what it is!" Spoon explained while conspicuously rubbing her brother's neck with her head. "Fluttershy, you go first!"

A panicked Fluttershy panicked a panicked no with her head, like a trapped animal willing to suddenly disappear. But just as the last stallion was dismissing it as a foalish game she caught his look on her, a friendly look waiting for her to begin. She blushed, looked down and, in a gulp, she nodded.

"Okay!" Marvel roamed, "I begin! Mineral, vegetal or animal?" And her friend lost an eternity on the last word.

The two mares were watching her, eyes sparkling for her answer. Fluttershy hesitated, a whole second, then murmured it so feebly that she had to repeat, so she gathered what courage she had and, raising her eyes to cross those of Spoon's brother... in a faint, shy voice:

"Mineral."

"Seriously" were screaming the two mare's faces in despair, with Marvel almost pointing at 'Shy in disbelief. She eventually sighed and left anyone take his turn as she herself plunged her head between legs and looked away. Her friend was a desperate case. Silver Spoon, too, put out by such a letdown gave her brother her turn.

He simply said, and 'Shy's heart, again, wavered:

"Is it the bunny plush you always keep close to you since the day we met?"

* * *

Commercials were running on the television. Commercials. The buzzing sound of the old set was filling her ears as well as the room. She could hear her brother on the stairs, his heavy hooves, her weak ones holding the blanket close to her, onto her head.

How could she have sunk so low?

All she had to do, to see the outside, was to raise a bit, tend the neck over the screen and see it by the window. But it was too much of an effort. She was a stone, a brick, she felt like a rusted horseshoe that had been thrown away. A few minutes before the press briefing. On the wooden floor was her hoofkerchief, a few shots of the past and her Stetson hat. She sighed.

Mac' had tapped on the door, told her that an old friend was coming to Ponyville. Had to be Fluttershy. The mare was looking at nowhere, afar, while her thoughts roamed free. It would have been perfect, getting up, meeting with her, spending some time outside instead of this mess. Her blood wanted to boil, if only she had some strength left, if only she had just a fibber of will, just a shoot of it.

Her brother's steps deepened on the stair, then she found herself alone again. Had she finished lamenting? 'T was unbearable! She rolled the cover once more, even more in her sorrow. A few more minutes to wait, in front of a stupid television screen, to see his stupid face and make as if one gave a buck.

"Hey Applejack!"

Watching Pinkie Pie standing in front of her, hiding the screen. This bouncing lock, this pinkish pink. Rising in a hurry.

"Pinkie?!" The cowmare blinked, then rubbed her eyes.

"I was just passing by!" Her old friend answered as she finally put her forelegs down to Equestria. "You're watching tv? I like tv! What's on, commercials? Aren't they the funniest?"

"No, they ain't" Applejack sighed, her fatigue already weighing her down on the bed. "Don't ya have-"

"Want corn? It was a hurry to come here so I couldn't make them pop!" The ear she was offering was fresh, still with leaves. "I am not sure where it comes from anyway!"

"Did ya pick them from my field?"

She didn't know what made her more tired, the presence of her friend, what she was saying or the risk to miss the beginning of the press briefing. And it struck her, that she was letting Pinkie stay. She sort of didn't mind her presence anymore, even the noise of her friend gnawing her corn the most ineffective way possible. 'T was as if they were to watch a match together. 'T was... comforting.

'T was pinkish.

A new sound caught her attention as on television was the logo of Canterlot. Then she saw the crowd and before the crowd a little podium. Memories of the podium in front of the Town Hall, the crowd gathered, those good memories. She shook her head. She didn't want to watch, she knew it would hurt her but she was waiting anyway, waiting for him to appear. And he appeared, coming from the left, his mane brushed sharply for the function, a tie and collar keeping him straight. He looked distant. Handsome and distant. Handsome, fabulous, mesmerizing and distant.

"Good day everypony, fillies, gentlecolts..." He said talking to no one, with a smile that wasn't a smile, that of a politician. Lying. Liar. Trying to look good with a cold and senseless heart. "An announcement before we begin..."

"Wait, isn't that Mayor's nephew?" Pinkie Pie caught on. "What's he doing away from you?"

"Pinkie..."

"He should be neaaaaaaaaar..." She added pushing the set towards the bed, so close that the earth mare with straw like mane had to pull herself back to keep watching it.

What was the big idea? All her anger, that she had felt just a moment ago when her friend was talking, willing to throw her by the window, had vanished. She wanted to... cry. Watching her friend's face smiling on top of the screen, her two legs holding it almost touching his head, watching it made Applejack break in tears. She couldn't hold it, she had already cried so many times, and now... Now she was giving up. She wanted him back, she couldn't lie, told her tears, she was begging for a second chance.

"So ask him!"

For Pinkie Pie all was so simple. But it wasn't so simple. He had left her, left her for this career in Canterlot. Without asking her. Without much words. He would have left like a thief that day, if she hadn't rushed to the train station. And even then, he avoided her. So no, it was not so simple. What was simple was, he was in Canterlot, having his life while she was stuck in her own and unable to live it.

"He is just here, Applejack!" Pinkie Pie repeated. "Just ask him!"

"Pinkie, it's a television." She said bitterly. "He won't hear me."

"And I bet you that he will! Now ask him!" She defied.

No, he wouldn't. No, she wouldn't play that filly game. She was tired of filly games. Time to grow up. Even for her friend, it was time for them to admit, not all could go well. 'T was time for herself to admit, she had to go on with her life. Forget about him. She watched him a last time as the press briefing was already reaching its conclusion, as he was asking if there were questions. No, there were none. Even if she did want to, even if she did...

"Actually, sir." A mare had stood up in the crowd.

Applejack felt her blood boiling. And she saw Pinkie smile and she saw him, she saw him shaken and his eyes, a spark in his eyes, a hopeful spark trying to reach her. The helpless need, like hers, that it was really about to happen:

"Twilight Sparkle, for Global U. I do have a question..."

* * *

Spike was waiting outside the press room, the dragon without age. He had sit in what others wouldn't call patience and claws on his cheeks the baby was watching those doors closed just at arm's length on his side. They opened in a slam and journalists began to flow out with animation. He got up, looked until the purple emerging horn put him to rest.

"So?" He asked her and Twilight nodded. "Another assignment done! Ready to write it down to the Princess!"

He took out the parchment and quill - it couldn't get older than that - before looking back at the mare that Twilight had become, if she had become one. There was so little changed, as far as he could tell, still the stubbornly studious pony there ever was, who was also giving him a compassionate look.

"What?"

"This report will have to wait just a little bit more" the unicorn said and she began to trot away, pulling Spike along her.

"What do you mean? Did something go wrong?"

Nothing of the sort, the ever to be student seemed perfectly satisfied with the answer she got. Now in the streets they were just two passerby among others and for the first time Spike noticed that they had no plan for later. So that's what it was all about.

This direction was not that of the university. They were, instead, going towards the suspended gardens where sometimes Twilight went to read her books in peace. Like she always had. Like she always would. Always the same trot, always the same peaceful smile. Was she thinking the same thing as him?

"Eh, Twilight..." he caught up with her. "What about you?"

"You mean my special somepony?" So she had thought about it. And, hiding an amused grin: "Oh, Spike, that's funny!"

"Don't funny me! You're, what, a grown-up now, and you still send reports to the Princess! First magic, then friendship, now love, what's next?"

She stopped and pondered, a hoof on her chin. Right now she was being logical. Best way to be blind, it's what had made them fumble two or three times on each love assignment. He braced, parchment and quill still in hands, for whatever nonsense she would find.

"What's... next." She repeated. "What can be next after love?"

"Exactly my point! So let's send that last letter and-"

She had returned to trotting. She was a case for science. He ran after her but didn't attempt to add anything because it occurred to him, she had no book with her. Maybe... maybe she was going to see her special somepony! A quick look at her, this peaceful composure, this confidence in herself, it was... painfully obvious she had nopony in mind. She was now trotting eyes close, caring no more for her surrounding. She was really happy.

"Won't you at least try?" Spike tried, again.

"Yeah, why don't you try?" Pinkie added.

"Yeah, like sh-" they both froze in surprise, then screamed, then Pinkie screamed and they all caught their breath back. The pink mare took a quick peak at Spike's parchment, to see it was empty. It was hard to tell, with her, if she understood what it meant. Only a full time assistant could really follow those sort of things.

Of course Twilight had to ask such silly questions as "Pinkie, how can you be... here?" Which the ever smiling mare answered without difficulty, by the power of love. It was her favorite answer since the unicorn had begun studying said power, and it had always left the lavender mare in dismay.

"Sooooo you have a super-duper new plan for somepony? Who is it who is it who is it oh! Wait don't tell me, I like surprises! Can I get to disguise as a ghost again?"

"Thank you Pinkie Pie", the student said calming her down. "But my studies on love have reached their end."

"Mflblmfhg" repeated Pinkie as her friend's toe was gently keeping her lips shut. She then released it and, just, trotted away, again, happily. Even the pink mare was kind of taken by surprise so she and Spike watched her continue down the street, then watched each other and the dragon suddenly remembered he was meant to go with her.

The evening was majestic, like every evening, a twilight in which the first stars would appear. He looked up in the sky, waiting for the first spark which, legends said, was your own. That made him bump into the eternally young minded student as she faced the suspended gardens. There were the three vast plates of parks over Canterlot's cliffs, adding their streams to the waterfalls. They had arrived just in time to see ponies light the lanterns.

"That's it, Spike." Twilight said.

"Yeah, no more head in the clouds for me..." he answered, rubbing his head.

But she wouldn't answer. She was just waiting, still smiling, forever smiling. He passed in front of her, agitated his hand then finally looked where she was looking. And he blinked. And he looked again at Twilight who was now looking at him, tenderly. So he turned back yet again to face the gardens and, completely at a loss, to face the gorgeous dress that Rarity was wearing.

He faltered. "Rarity?" Then. "What's happening?" And as they approached the pure blushing unicorn: "I thought..."

He hadn't even noticed that, halfway through, Twilight had slowed down to let him go alone towards his love. Rarity, more beautiful than ever, simply offered her hoof to the dragon and they both went to lose themselves in the gardens.

Behind, Spike had left the quill and parchment. Twilight hovered them, her horn brightening in the evening, and she began her report:

"Dear Princess, what is there after love..."


	2. On the bench

**The idea came, never left, so here goes. 'Was meant to be in a train at first but I noticed there are too many trains in my stories... It was also meant to be in first person and in present but the effect was too comical. If you're good you'll notice some leads unexploited, and if not that I am really bad with feelings...**

* * *

Leaves were messy on the grass, their colors scorched, they replaced bloom by their shapes withered and laid there of ocher and gold. They could be the first one to shine before sunrise, when it was a bit greyish this early and lonely, a time at dawn only a few ponies attended when the park was all their, for couples to meet and for the old lady, to remember. And for others it was the occasion to run through the leaves, make them fly in a gallop so high and so harsh, lose his sight among their flight then fall with them, roll among them like a little colt.

He had a leaf at his mouth, his back on the dirt and the old lady looking at him. The dew had turned his coat dirty, there piled with the piles of leaves but she laughed, mocked him a bit. Her coat was that good old juicy one, still strong through the age. They laughed together, they were laughing because, in a few days, he would probably move to Canterlot.

"Would be darn time young boy!" She said with her rough voice. "A nice lady unicorn, now how does that sound, huh?"

"We all keep dreaming, ma'am." The stallion politely answered blowing the leaf away.

She remarked he would have better chances with at least a mane brushed, and he nodded, watched her walk away at her slow walk on the path, by the park, to a destination only she knew. She was of those coming here at the occasion, sometimes accompanied by that filly, most of the time alone on one side of the muddy path, her leg limping, and shades and the past would envelop her more and more. He had got up, watched her walk and couldn't help but feel sad. The stallion shook, saw the leaves sticking to his wet pelt and grunted.

The fountain was near, all around those trunks darkened by the early day and their branches exposed. He was trotting quietly, caught two mares away, walking together. They greeted him from afar, he waved back at them and with a grin, watched them go their way with little giggles, those little words they exchanged. Once a bush hid them he rubbed his ear, saw another leaf fall down and, his eyes on it, his smile faltered, he turned and went for the center of the park.

His hooves plunged into the cold water, began to rub to get the dirt away. It was visible, when he tapped on the side of the fountain, how he wanted to hop in entirely. On the surface his face was reflecting, the mane of a savage and the bristle dirty, he splashed water on his face, shook and waited for the reflection to reappear. At the bottom underwater were bits, a few of them ponies threw in to make wishes. No legend, they just... did. He put water on his face a second time, let drops drip form the muzzle and turning the stallion took a peek at his back and body, not much he could do about it.

Here in the full day when warmth and joy would press ponies to go out it was always busy, so festive, games and chats and naps on the grass or on the green benches. The grey day was covering the place of shades, so quiet. On the other side was another pony asleep, almost a colt. As for him he chose the nearest bench, stepped on it and laid down, hooves hanging at the edge. And he watched the grass lull slowly, let his eyes close for a moment.

Canterlot seemed so far, a sort of impossible dream. He had only been there twice or three times, at a younger age, he had so little memories.

So he dreamed of this job, that he would get it, what the university would look like, the teachers, the students, the gardens, the hallways, the blackboards. That was how he had got his cutie mark: by washing and cleaning a blackboard, the sponge on his hooves, as water spilled to get the chalk away. So he had a brush, and he had become a janitor. That was his precious memory, of him as a little colt and the sponge humid, smiling as the board progressively cleaned itself before him. This job was the place of his dreams, a place to be, and he would see his friends from time to time, back in Ponyville, and he had no special one to keep him here.

A sigh escaped; his eyes were slightly open. All of this seemed so far, those dreams, those hopes, this joy he should have felt.

From the horizon the Sun pierced, warmth came and with it an awakening, the grass so green, the leaves like burning. He thought, ponies would come, and he thought, he would leave. Already some hooves were approaching, and he thought, they sounded lonely. That thought had appeared by itself, unconsciously as he kept watching down at nothing, all to his dreams. He only noticed the colt, a colt to him, waking up and looking around his direction. The steps were closer, taps of hooves too light to be those of a stallion. Strange idea but something in him told it was a mare, and his heart began to pound.

Not much reasons, already the stallion was rejecting those ideas. What chances, that she would even notice him, stop by and talk to him. Those were his wishes, nothing more and he didn't want to even look. His ears flat, he heard those hooves so close, and the steps had something gracious in them, something careful and reserved. She was slowing down, maybe near the fountain, or closer to him when the sounds halted. Looking in the water or looking at that colt the janitor guessed. But he had lost all track of time and waiting for anything, any rumor, in just a few seconds he took a glance.

The mare was a half dozen steps from him and the first thing he noticed was the book on her back, before anything. Then only, that her coat was lavender, her mane a dark purple with this streak he knew and his mouth opening faintly on some sort of breath, it was her the stallion thought.

He knew her.

He knew her from when he would go to the library, wander in it by the shelves for some book he would never find, leaving empty hooved and then feeling bad for not having borrowed anything. That mare... and from his bench, his head barely turned, eyes wide he observed her saddened face, that the Sun was making sparkle. He was looking at her eyes so magical, blinking too quickly to be caught and here, on the contrary, longing for something. Was it those delicate lips in the fresh morning or the line of her muzzle so slim, so strict in an argument, she seemed more mature. It was the first time, he thought, he had really seen her without a smile.

A thrill almost made him move, too scared to be caught, to see her leave. She was there with him in the morning and in the park, and even if it was an incident, meant to wane in a few seconds the stallion didn't care. The mare looked around, her motion still sharp despite this untold sorrow. When her eyes turned to him he didn't dare motion one bit, looked straight into the grass and waited, heart beating.

Just a second, his ears caught her steps, five steps as she approached him and he quickly thought, panicked, what he should do, instinctively looked at her like for any other pony. She had already gone to his back, at the half of the bench still unoccupied and, stepping in, the young lavender mare tapped a bit before laying down, a bit curled and in her move the book slipped, fell on the grass.

When she did the janitor had quickly retreated to his side, forcing his back on the edge and bent he looked as she got installed, and his tail was withdrawn, folded back. He would have clutched on it if not for this silly scare that she would notice him. There, so close, he could almost guess her breath, see the brushed mane and that fringe he loved, somewhat softened but those cuts like scissors were still visible. And she was clean, her coat a marvel, neatly done. her muzzle was trying, between her two forelegs, to find some slumber.

So he forced himself to not look at her anymore, but away, caught the colt looking at them. His eyes crossed his eyes, a sort of curiosity, the colt looked away. "It's not like that!" his own eyes pleaded, as if for help. His chest was warm, almost a bit hurting.

As long as she would be here the janitor thought he couldn't disturb her.

His eyes then fell on the book, open on the wet grass and questions rammed his mind. He was in no condition to think, only to calm, try to convince himself that she simply didn't know he was there, and it was the most probable reason. She had missed the pony lain there, she had thought the bench was free. The moment she would notice, he would have to leave. For now he could believe that the breeze however weak was wearing her scent.

She moaned, almost nothing, just a faint rumor between her lips. Trouble sleeping, her eyelids were trembling. It was his presence the stallion thought, his messy mane, his dirty pelt and he waited anxiously for the moment those two adorable eyes would open on him. He was spying, taking profit of an instant of weakness, at least he was feeling guilty of something. But she was there, so close, and he couldn't help but want it to last. His own breath had accelerated, forcing himself to keep it down, he felt ridiculous, retracted his legs and tail some more.

But she motioned a bit, scratched the air with one leg and after that, she was a tenth of an inch closer. He watched her, frozen as she kept rubbing her head on the green wood, with locks of her hair flowing, slipping away. She stretched, he panicked, her toes skimming the messy bristle before she stopped, curled up a bit and he tried to estimate, closer or not, he couldn't tell. Why, why was he thinking that she would get any closer than that but he feared and hoped at the same time.

And the mare shivered, as if cold, rubbed against the bench for some comfort and when she finished, the curves of her horn were almost at his belly's height, where he breathed and breathed unable to calm down. She had extended over his tail, trapping him and him, retracted and tense, feared to disturb this look on her somewhat back to calm, and that timid smile.

The park was silent around them, no passer by for now, not even pegasi in the sky to mess with clouds. Even the rumors from the town were too much, a disturbance he wished to silence. The colt, away, was making as if he wasn't watching them, as if he was asleep again but his waving tail was telling all. So despite the first colors of light in the early morning they were alone and he could feel a burden the mare had, not even inches from him, what he would have given to just pat her head and comfort her. All was so quiet, she was so quiet, he was so tense that it was hurting. Her weight, as light as she was, was taking its toll on his tail.

Maybe, just maybe, his hoof hesitated, he could touch her shoulder. But even that, he couldn't gather enough strength to dare taint her beautiful coat.

So he thought, it was like a dream. To have her so close, even if by accident, even if it meant she couldn't see him, it was the best he could wish for. And quieting some bit the stallion closed his eyes, tried to imagine what would come next. To just have her napping, just less than an inch from him, her natural scent like wood and wax mixed, soft to keep his dreams vivid, and to have her pure heart beating near his, that was all he could envision. What else could happen the janitor thought, and feeling pain he grimaced, then felt her head against his chest and opened his eyes, terrorized.

No space was left to give her space, she had taken him by surprise, stretched and now snuggling up against him the mare slipped her muzzle between his forelegs, against his beating chest and she curled there, and he could feel her breath against his hoof, feel her heart and her warmth.

He tried to move, to leave but she moaned and him, freezing, the throat dry, let her muzzle rub his foreleg. He thought, "I'm her cushion, I'm her cushion, I'm her cushion" because it was impossible otherwise, that she of all mares would want to be with him. She was cold he scolded himself, she was sad and he couldn't get farther than that, when he realized, too happy, that her smile had come back, her face now so quiet, with the tiny little touch of seriousness he adored. He blushed, the face of a foal facing this living dream, and he didn't care anymore for the reasons.

That was as far as it would go, him, the janitor, cushion for the mare he admired.

And he feared his smell would wake her up, that the dirt would sully her or worse, that somepony would see them and think something wrong. He realized that the park still existed, with golden leaves and the fountain mute near them, making the air fresher. The colt was now looking at him directly, a furious look partly hid behind his conspiring hoof as the other scratched the bench. Jealously, the word crossed the stallion's mind but he didn't think anymore. He couldn't. She was there with him and nopony else.

What he could do was watch her, watch over her, sketch with his free leg a caress over her neck. That was barely a motion, almost all in his mind and yet those locks on her studious mane were teasing him. So messy, he wanted to clean them, to brush them.

The day he had got his cutie mark, his parents had thought he would become a hairdresser. So for some time he had brushed manes, and he loved it. He knew, brushing such a soft, such a precious mane could damage it even with the gentlest touch. And even then he knew her name, of that mare, from renown and he had played in his room of brushing her lavender hair, and she would thank him, and he would smile at her and her at him. Then he became a janitor because the town needed a janitor and it involved brushes too. That mare had given her name to the school in Canterlot he would be cleaning everyday, and that was the closest to his dreams, just under his toe, sleeping.

So for the time being he would simply make as if he was styling her coiffure, like a little foal, his hoof hovering slightly over her head, trembling. She huddled just a bit more, the line of her neck more visible, this coat pearling with the cold morning. Did she want to, he wondered, his face crimson, did she know he was there and actually wanted... but no, that were his dreams, and she would be so upset. Plunged into distress he hadn't even noticed the old limping, those rusty hooves approaching:

"Great snakes! That's some company you have there big boy!" The old mare laughed as she approached.

He waved at her frantically with his head and free leg, not to wake her up. Already the young mare was motioning, with her hooves and tail, but she smiled and nodded and snuggled against him until his leg would touch her neck. His cheeks were as red as apples for harvest. The lady saw his embarrassment, tried to choke another laugh and, happily:

"I better let the two of you alone, wouldn't want to disturb your cozy princess here  
!" And she laughed, walking away: "You two take care!"

"Mh mh" The mare between his legs answered, smiling happily and his heart pounded as if some hammer stunning him.

She wasn't asleep as he had thought, but conscious, feeling him, she had chosen to be there in his grasp or maybe, he looked away, maybe it was a spell. Because, there was no chance, no chance she would even know his name. Her neck was slim, used to those nods she would give in discussions, and he could feel this life of hers beating, so calm and so quiet. And his coat was on her coat, his rough bristle to her tender hair, the locks of her dark mane softly lain on her shoulder, on her folded foreleg and to his, in this little curve at the end he thought was new. Without a word she eased his worries, as if magic, by just being with him.

But even then, he couldn't, he knew that was some mistake. And the janitor wished he could do something, anything but wait for her to realize, for all to end. His leg under her muzzle was slowly getting numb, he didn't care, somewhat concerned now to just see her smile, afraid if it was to disappear, he kept watching over her false nap.

She moved some more, turned her head slightly towards him and with her eyes closed she seemed a filly, this innocent smile:

"Would you..." She hesitated, this voice so familiar, leveled and cautious... "would you stroke my mane?"

In the time she said it her face showed some concern, as if a guilt to ask it. The stallion was paralyzed, fearful, she couldn't have asked him to... and he didn't want to think it was true, he didn't want those false hopes for when it would end, because it would end, it would be crushing. But she was waiting for an answer, her eyes began to open even so slightly, but barely, he panicked. He motioned his hoof along her mane, calming her, she smiled and let him do, softened to feel his hoof along the curls of hair undone. Still, he was reluctant, he couldn't but this face so beautiful, hiding a pain he could only guess, decided him.

And he really wanted to.

He wished nothing more, caressed the hair then with the toe the stallion lifted a streak that had slipped on her cheek, he carried it back behind her ear, let it flow its whole length along the neck. She murmured a little: "Thanks." As he kept brushing it, bit by bit, try to ease the fringe and the lighter lock siding her horn. There was no resistance, those hair so smooth, so lengthy he had never guessed on her back, threads shining in the early light of day.

Then, even when the mane was neat he kept on going, despite the hurt in his body, one leg numb and the rest tense, the stallion was focused on his task to keep her smiling. Maybe she would really fall asleep, and when her heart would be at calm, her breath fainted, he would be free to leave and leave the dream intact. Maybe it could end well afterall and the janitor made those hair float, slide along his hoof each time skimming her coat, and he hoped he was gentle. Now the world seemed a threat, the park an enemy to keep away from their bench and he would throw quick glares around, at the colt turned away, at the fountain and those leaves playing on the ground, thousands of fairies guarding their solitude.

He would have liked to murmur into that lovely ear, words of comfort, this feeling she was hiding and that his brushing couldn't ease, only keep deep, the stallion wished he had had the strength to do more. He was selfish, feeling selfish himself of her weakness and yet, this painful hope was there that she knew and wanted for him to continue, if only... But even then that hope was nothing, and she would leave.

She said: "faster..." and then, "please?" and she had turned to him again, her head slightly risen towards the stallion. The mare had faintly opened her eyes, a veil humid through which he could see her sharp spirit, and his heart bolted, carried away, at the thought she was looking at him and at the thought she was seeing him. He rushed to brush her, plunged his hoof into her mane and she offered this candid smile he so hoped for, as if finally the pain had gone away. She was so close to him, her head near his, his look wide and terrified to hers timid.

She said: "Thank you big brother" and all halted.

His hoof suspended, at the shiver, he closed his eye to retain more emotions as they flowed. And then, painfully, to the mare who wondered why he had stopped, the janitor answered:

"I... I'm not your brother."

She opened her eyes, in a blink, this quick blink he loved, and she faced his messy face looking away, embarrassed. It took her a second to realize, she gasped and escaped his legs. He let her go, felt his tail battling free. She had sit, confused:

"I'm so sorry!" She pleaded, "I thought..."

"No, I'm the one to blame." He answered looking down at the leaves, now that the dream was broken, he knew it all along, he thought it wouldn't hurt that much.

"I didn't mean to, I am so, so sorry" and she extended a leg for forgiveness, her face so worried, those lovely eyes. "I was so stupid!" And she tried to laugh nervously.

"You didn't know" he told her, trying not to look at her, to keep his feelings shut. "I should have stopped you."

He had expected a scold, anger, he was listening to her awkward tone as she painfully tried to justify herself. But she listened to her words and, blushing a bit, she stood silent. He could only guess it, lain and silent, he didn't want to face the reality. It didn't matter anyway, in a few days he would be gone. It was nice, for a few minutes, to believe in the impossible. It was nice, feeling her close, her of all mares, and have this belief that she wanted to be there huddled against him. It was farther than anything he had ever dreamed.

Then, just then, she asked: "But... you didn't" and it was almost not a question, almost a wish. He nodded, unable to answer that, his throat choked by his thoughts. Now he was the one sad, but that was fine, somehow he had been all this time, with the leaves to keep him company.

She pawed on the bench, troubled. A look around, at the park still quiet, still early in the early morning, with those shades feeble under the Sun and the fresh air fleeing. She looked around before reaching to the stallion, and with this awkward tone he loved:

"Would you mind if... if I..." his heart raced at those words. "If I stayed just a bit longer?"

He turned to her, his eyes full of surprise to meet hers scared, she was ready to retract and him blushing, wanting to ask why, swept the question.

"Not at all." He succeeded to say, and he thought his voice had died at his lips but she smiled, a little smile so warm it made him smile in return.

The mare lain down again, cuddled and, asking if it was fine, snuggled her muzzle against this leg of his. He put the other on her shoulder, offered to brush her and she nodded, happily, and he could feel her breath follow as his hoof, again, smoothed her dark hair, as gently as he could, and as long as she would wish. Her heart fluttered, he calmed her by touching her neck, sliding on it down to the back, to the feathers, and here alone in the park among those whithered leaves they were smiling.


	3. The prom

The prom was holding, somehow, in its entirety inside the sport field, stadium siding the lights of the Twilight University. Tables were lit on top of the terraces, alone, whereas the court itself was filled with colts and fillies. They were showing their dresses, smokings, their necklaces and ties for this one night where romance was a rule and a game for most. On top of their scene the orchestra was playing the school's finest, dancing notes for the three dance fields left empty among the many lanterns alight.

It was a beautiful night.

Icy had watched it all since the beginning, there amongst the first ones mostly since she helped install the last sets before the opening, and because she had a cousin among the musicians. So for some time already she had been tapping this corner of the bench, her drink at a hoof grasp as those last years entered, then sprayed in joy. After a speech it had begun, and so Icy had tasted the drink with her lips, then listening to the music, she thought she should have brought a book or something as annoying.

She had those thoughts where it was fine to have spent those years and find herself alone in the end, and where not all had to come in couples. Happy for her friends and all that, and with her light glassy bristle she felt like laying down and sleeping the whole night through, and kept watching the prom from her bench.

It was, technically, the bench where players would wait to enter the field.

As much as she had watched it Icy had seen nothing, mostly just mares she knew trotting along the crowd, friends too busy with the festivities - and a special one - to notice she was here. She sighed, she knew she was meant to get up and have fun, but it required efforts. And laziness was an excuse for all.

"Eh, you!" A colt called.

She seemed to wake up, left her bench and drink for this young stallion, cheeks and muzzle with spots adding pink to his firm green coat, the mane sadly brushed. It was, she took a second to get his name, it was Arthur and she smiled even though he seemed tense.

"What are you doing?" The stallion asked.

"I'm having fun, don't you see?" She answered as her eyebrows lowered.

He seemed not to understand, he was watching her with curiosity or disbelief. But, Icy thought, he was one to get how a filly could end up having to fill the time by herself. That meant, he had to be alone himself, so she didn't mind his tense words.

"You don't have some pony to ask out?" He asked with surprise, almost suspicion.

"I don't bother to."

"What?" Arthur stepped back, taken aback. "But... that's not..."

And he turned, speechless, trotted away. The filly rolled her eyes, didn't bother to try and get what had happened. She resumed tapping her bench and listening to the swift tone of the orchestra. There were so many lights, so many ponies she knew and liked, and she knew as her ear caught the trot that some other pony was about to disturb her loneliness. After a sigh Icy turned and smiled to the mare, her friend Mish Mash whose eyes were filled with tears.

Before one of them could say a word Mish Mash fell down on her friend's shoulder and sobbed, in such a way that the young mare wondered if it wasn't theater. She patted her back, asked what happened:

"It's Arthur!" She sobbed. "I asked him out!"

Patting her some more Icy tried not no chuckle. She was suddenly certain it was nothing, and so waiting for her friend to get it all out she said some "there there" of comfort. Then it occurred to her that Mish Mash already had a colt for the prom, and she began to worry. Did she mean Arthur asked her out, and then, why did it matter, the filly stopped patting then forced her friend a bit away to face her.

What happened was this: Mish Mash had come to the stadium- "With Honey Horn" Icy felt obliged to ask, or underline and her friend nodded, as if she had just remembered this detail. She had waited all along for Arthur's arrival, to the point that her colt had become impatient. Then, as soon as she heard he was there, she had galloped to find him. Icy blinked, trying to grasp what her friend just said and she wasn't sure if she was still listening. At the entrance, the story went on, there was a crowd of mares trying to reach the young stallion. "Arthur?" Icy's voice was completely lost. They had tried to reach him, to ask him out, to be his filly for the night. But he had rejected them, one after the other, and when Mish Mash tried, when she tried, when she, she, she fell in tears again in Icy's light blue legs.

Something was completely off, and she told her friend how weird that was. She asked, "why did you ask him out?" Why him and her friend's eyes plunged in hers, "what do you mean?" they were asking. Her sorrow was too much to care, soon she was sobbing again and Icy, getting out of her grasp, told her to stay there and that she would be back soon. Had to get them some drink and such, any excuse to quickly leave and think.

It made no sense.

Now that she was wandering among the crowd, she noticed how tense the prom was. Stallions were nervous, some angry. The mares, as if somewhere else, looked distressed, caught in dreams. Couples were fighting, cold words, cold sights and the nearest dance floor had hardly any dancer.

"Of course I don't care about him!" A filly said with false disdain to the colt facing her. And as she said so her head was turned somewhere around the entrance, adding to the colt's distrust. She had this lip trembling, that she would try not to bite, revealing her hard feelings.

"Go tell him that!" The colt said, boiling inside. He was hurt. It was obvious. He turned away, leaving her and she didn't seem to mind, he caught Icy watching them as she passed by. "Can you believe this?" He asked her.

"Believe what?"

"She came with me here, just so she could see another pony!" And then, breathing, "who cares. I need a dance, what about coming with me?"

"Are you..." Icy asked, but already her heart was beating. The colt was handsome, and she thought...

"You seem nice, and we don't want to be alone, right? Come, follow me!"

She blushed, and she felt like she should say no but she wanted to say yes, so she nodded and let him take her on the dance floor. She nodded and followed, with little steps first then trotting after him as he went faster, and Arthur looked at that scene, not even caring for the two mares pleading their case. He didn't even bother answering them, moved away and heard their voice shattering. "I can't even enjoy it" he muttered for himself, frustrated, and seeing other mares grouped near he tried to avoid them. All around him the prom seemed to fall in ruins, to hold only through the tiny lights of lanterns. More tears than joy.

Then, suddenly, he felt a presence, the kind of presence students had learned to dread in the university. He turned and face the strict look of Twilight Sparkle. Immediately, before the lavender alicorn Arthur thought, "caught!" But he tried to keep appearances, like all around him, as if everything was fine.

She strengthened her look, then: "Follow me." And he obliged, let her take him away from the sad festivities. Around him other ponies were watching, the student and his professor, and in their eyes were more anger than questions.

She took him under the terraces, in a quiet room that her magic rendered mute, once alone, she turned to him.

"Every mare wanting you for the prom? You refusing every of them?" She was throwing accusations. "I am listening."

He could act, he could try to get out of it through lies but the colt didn't feel like it. Something in his chest was too heavy to try. Something like a thought, so he looked away and admitted:

"I used a love potion."

"On all the mares?"

On his sister first, Pretty Bouquet. The potion had precise instructions, to force the mare to do two things. One, to give this same love potion to any filly who didn't like him. Second, to ask him out at the prom. They would love him and desire to be with him. His teacher was listening, not asking anything, so he continued. The potion was studied so that it would have no more effect past the prom. And he concluded, ironically, that his teacher had taught him well.

"I haven't taught my classes to play with other ponies' feelings" she scolded him, then her tone changing: "I'm really disappointed."

"Oh" he reacted, clenching his teeth. "Because they weren't playing with mine! They mocked me year after year!"

"You did this because of some mockery?"

"They made it a game." He growled. "And Pretty Bouquet took part in it."

Such things were usual. One filly would make as if she would be his special somepony, then reject the pony in front of her friends. Fault to the colt to have been a fool. When they told him face to face that her sister knew, something in him had broken. So he had made the potion, and Arthur looked on the face of the alicorn any expression, of approval, of disgust, only to find this soft disappointment.

"Even then," she returned to her professoral tone, "that doesn't justify your act. No!" She prevented him from answering. "I want you to admit publicly and say you are sorry."

"Don't you think I'm punished enough as it is?" He retorted, angrily.

She looked at him, then sighed. "This is not about punishment. This is about making peace." And feeling how the colt resisted: "It's not a choice. If by midnight you haven't told them, I will."

Midnight wasn't far, as the sky's lights were competing with those of the sport field, Icy thought she didn't want it to end. All felt so sad around her, but in this colt's grasp, valsing along couples and caring for nothing, she was too lucky to complain. He knew how to dance, she didn't, so the filly was letting him guide and made her move, flow and fly along the music. He was smiling, behind that smile she could still read his anger and frustration, his sorrow, and so she would simply look past it.

Then, as their pace slowed, she noticed the mare back, and then he noticed her, and she tried to ask for a moment of his attention. "You had your chance" he simply said, trying not to sound cold but his feelings were such, and still Icy could see that he cared. "I am sorry" the mare said, and the dance broke.

Of course, he wanted to be with her, Icy thought. She had just been a replacement. Maybe he read that in her eyes, he said: "Excuse me for a moment" and she nodded. She let him talk with the mare, as she apologized, about her conduct, and having neglected him, and her words were perfectly sincere. They were bells ringing in his heart. So, even before the mare finished, Icy began to pace away.

"Did this stallion just drop you?"

It was another colt, tense, a green sluggish coat and the face with spots. She thought, "it doesn't concern you" but it was just her being sad, so she simply nodded.

"It's fine, he was meant to be with her."

Then it occurred to her, as it occurred to him, "you are the filly who didn't ask me out!" And her: "you are the colt that all fillies are asking out!" He looked away, as if hurt. As if a confirmation, another mare approached and, flanking Arthur, asked if he wanted- "Why would I go out with you?" He answered in a flow of anger. "I don't even know you!" The mare was shocked, unable to react, then her face decomposed as she begged, as tears began to grow. Icy was watching it, remembered Mish Mash - and didn't even bother that she had left her friend alone - and felt angst. The mare, after a last vain attempt, turned and galloped away, shrieking.

When she turned to face Arthur, scold him or anything, she saw the stallion pacing away, head low. And was it curiosity or anything else, she felt the need to go after him.

"Why did you say no?" Was her very first question.

He looked at her, and in his eyes were something like distress, hidden by a veil of anger. But more than that, there was this surprise, as if her question was absurd. As if she should not even have been able to ask it.

"Why don't you ask me out?" He asked, not even realizing what he had asked.

"I... uhm..." She had stopped, embarrassed. How to say no without hurting, but she hadn't even thought of reasons to say no. He simply didn't really look good, that was all. That's when the stallion finally grasped what his question implied, and he quickly tried to backtrack, "I didn't mean it like that" being just as embarrassed as she was. So, to escape it he quickly rushed: "You'll say no anyway" which freed her from saying it.

She calmed, he calmed, they looked at each other. She didn't really remember why she was with him or about those sad mares and all. All she had in mind was, this colt was alone and would be alone, and she was feeling more sorry for him than for herself.

"Maybe..." She tried. "Maybe we could spend some time together? It can't hurt, right?"

The green stallion didn't know what to answer. For the first time it seemed, he was acknowledging her existence. For the first time since the beginning of the night, Arthur seemed to notice she was a filly. "Maybe" he answered, which meant yes, and they went to a table.

He asked the waitress for drinks, watched her leave with eyes shred by sadness and sighed. The prom was a disaster, the orchestra playing lone for nopony. Couples were dancing without conviction, in this poisoned mood were all were distrusting all. And then there was this filly with him, trying to smile, seeming not bothered, and he kept wondering why she hadn't fallen to the love potion. Did it even matter, in just a bit more than an hour midnight would come, and he would be hated by all.

So he asked, to not think about it, if she had friends in the crowd, learned about Mish Mash, apologized almost by habit. He didn't say he was sorry for her friend, only, "I'm sorry it happened". Their drinks arrived, he kept asking, what she had studied, and she explained she would have to do another year, she would have another prom, with new friends she guessed. Him? He would graduate, but he returned to her, why she had chosen a lemon syrup, if she liked sport and he had forgotten why he was asking all of that.

Then, they came, a bunch of stallions and he knew, at first sight, that they had got it too. But he had it slightly wrong. They were leaded by a light brown stallion, head of his friends, the first to put a hoof on the table and ask, politely, for the filly to let them for a moment.

"We were discussing" Icy answered.

But she felt the colt's anger, Arthur's fear and the stallions grouped. Already they had bypassed her, addressing him directly for explanations. "You made Promenade cry!" He meant his filly, and all the other stallions had the same story or were there to support him.

"She asked me out." Arthur coldly answered, readying. "I refused."

"You heard this?" The stallion called around him, and his friends nodded. There was no reasoning, no explaining, they weren't there for nothing but to defend their loved ones. The tone got up, Arthur having nothing more to say, all he could say, try to say, useless. "Listen when somepony talks to you!" And the hit came, nothing too harsh, just a movement of anger uncontrolled. The hoof smashed behind his ear, making Arthur hiss. At that moment he wished nothing more than to jump on his aggressor and fight, and what stopped him, what kept him sit, only throwing glares, was not the certainty to lose; it was that he did feel guilty.

Icy didn't know that. She suddenly screamed: "Stop it!" And she talked to them, and with his whistling ear Arthur couldn't hear what she was saying clearly. But she was defending him, and eventually the stallions, still frustrated, left them alone. He wished he knew what words she had used, what was behind the worried look she was giving him as the light blue filly tried to watch his wound, hardly a scratch, and proposed to go somewhere else.

He nodded. They left the field for the terraces, up and by the lone tables where candles were lit. From there the university, and then Canterlot, were visible, stars under stars of the sky.

"This night is horrible." Arthur lamented.

They were past the table, hung on the rail at the very end of the terraces. From there the wind could reach them, make their bristle flow. She smiled a bit, answered:

"Actually, I do like it."

"How so?" He asked, his hoof still put behind his ear.

"Well, for once, we are not alone, right?"

His heart began to race. She was smiling, and it caused him to want to smile in return. He hadn't thought that they were together. He kind of said it, that he didn't understand why she had nopony, because she was beautiful, with those eyes, with her mane and she laughed at his flattering. That's not what he meant, and to avoid the embarrassment he said, she had no reason to be with him. He wasn't "the most handsome colt around here", and he had been angry all the time.

"Well, yes." She replied. "But you are nice, right?" And then: "I did like dancing with that handsome stallion. It was thrilling! But right now? I don't want to be anywhere else!"

And for a second time she didn't even bother that she had left her friend Mish Mash alone.

"I didn't even ask for your name" Arthur said.

"It's Ice Shard."

Away they heard a bell, tone from the Twilight university announcing the approach of midnight. It came to him, what was about to happen, how could he have forgotten about it. Head low, the colt looked down on the dark grass, and he didn't know what to do. That all the mares would hate him, that all the stallions, and even his friends... but what really hurt was the thought that she, Ice Shard, would stop liking him. He when he turned his sight on her he feared to see a glare, only met her quiet smile.

He was about to lose her, and that meant, it was hard for him to even admit it, that meant she actually cared for him. No avoiding it.

"Come! The Princess is about to make a speech! We don't want to miss that!"

She seemed thrilled as he felt needles: "I think we can hear it from here."

"I promise" she said grasping him between her legs, and he felt her cool body, "I won't let ponies hurt you."

"Right?" He asked, not knowing why, and she nodded, right. They went down the stairs, as on the scene before the orchestra Twilight Sparkle had taken place, and with her the director and the most graded of this year. The alicorn had already begun speaking, so Icy tried to hasten their pace, pressed him to trot. His legs were heavy, his heart pounding to no end. He refused to believe tears were coming. Not even when he had felt his sister betraying him did he cry, so why now. The voice of the teacher was reaching to them, her words quite low but clear, talking about expectations and excellence, and then, about ponies emotions.

He walked along the crowd, following the clear tail of Icy as she seemed always to disappear before him, and each time he panicked, and panicked more as Twilight's voice was stronger and stronger. But each time Icy was reappearing, looking for him until they reached their place, and listened. And he wasn't listening anymore, just waiting for it to happen. He wasn't trembling anymore, almost at peace, readying.

"I know you are all sad, but I also know your feelings are strong. That you will remember all those days spent together, all those times of joy and sorrow, where you made friends, and more. That you will remember all the hardships, all the doubts, all the troubles you went through together, that strengthened your bond and made this spark happen in your hearts. Leaving the university won't change that. A single night can't change that. Because, eventually, you know those feelings were true, because you care and because you will keep fighting for what you treasure most."

"And now," Twilight Sparkle concluded in a more joyful note, "I want everypony to have the best prom of their life!"

Fillies and colts clapped, stomped the ground at the end of her speech. It was tepid at best, not even a cheer but, by just a bit, the mood had warmed. There were little smiles, soft words exchanged. In this crowd Ice Shard was thrilled, asked Arthur what he thought of the speech. He had still his eyes shut fast. He opened them. And he didn't understand what was happening.

The alicorn was looking at him, and when their eyes crossed, she finally left her spot for the director to leave a last word, as festivities resumed, and for more speeches. And the green stallion murmured, for himself: "She said nothing."

Ice Shard had put a hoof on his shoulder. He felt her toe, he felt her look on him and trembled. Having a hard time to breathe. He knew exactly what he had to do, and he was terrorized, but he had to, and he was repeating to himself, he had to. Time was running out, so he turned to the filly, her light glassy coat and this soft clear mane, and her eyes like shards. He was about to lose her, as if seeing her for the last time, he didn't know what to say. So he said:

"I have something to do."

And that were his last words. he turned, trotted around the scene to the steps, went past the orchestra and at that point he could still turn back, with hardly anypony having noticed him. But he went on, reached the director as one of the graded was speaking. He asked the director to let him talk, and the director refused at first, but, at his insistence, and maybe something else, she finally gave up.

So, as soon as the graded finished, returning to his place, it was his turn. He walked, but hardly, to where the princess had been. He closed his eyes. Said a word that echoed along the stadium. As suddenly, half the crowd went silent, mares looking at him everywhere, with hopes, with sadness, with so many emotions. And Ice Shard, before all, was just there looking at him, wondering what was going on. He was about to break in tears.

"I am here to apologize. I am the one who ruined the prom." Behind him the students lined and the director reacted, surprise or false surprise.

"As you may know, I'm not really popular with the fillies. I am a subject of laugh for them. It was hard, but I lived with it. One day I learned my sister was playing their game, and I got blinded. So I decided to hurt the fillies that had hurt me. I created a love potion, forcing them to ask me to be their colt for the prom, so that I could say no to them. So that they would feel what it's like. I created the potion so that it would spread to all the fillies who didn't like me, or mocked me."

"Which means," he continued, "that the potion couldn't affect those who didn't mind, or thought I was nice. When I came here tonight, I thought I would have my revenge. But instead, I saw how many fillies had thought low of me, and I saw how many ponies, fillies like colts, I had hurt. I felt a horrible guilt. I also got to meet a filly that wouldn't play with my feelings, one that sincerely cared for me, just to lose her now."

That's where Arthur missed words. He simply wanted to say, that he apologized, but he didn't know how to express it, to make sure it would sound as sincere as he was. Because he was convinced they wouldn't forgive him. Because he couldn't forgive himself.

"Well, fine by me!" A light brown stallion threw from among the crowd, and it spread around him, a rumor of approval. All the tension, all the sad mood seemed to break, as if a spell cast away, ponies were beginning to rejoice everywhere he could see. And he knew midnight had come, and the potion effect had ended. There were still colts angry at him, glares from fillies, of hatred, but the majority simply looked happy, happy to forget about it and go on with the prom. The crowd got taken by this mood, by the need to have fun and they began spreading to their activities.

He didn't know if he had to stay, to add a word or to leave. Arthur was blinded, deaf, waiting for something to happen that refused to come. Eventually the director touched his shoulder, "nice speech" to tell him that he could go. There was still, on the director's face, some form of anger, telling him he would be punished, but that went without saying. So the stallion paced away, a bit and behind the orchestra playing anew. He didn't feel relieved, but he didn't feel worse. That was as much as he could expect.

"I am glad you decided to confess." The alicorn appeared by his side, hidden until then behind the scene.

"Why didn't you denounce me?"

"Because I saw you on the terraces" she smiled and walked away happily.


End file.
